Worlds Apart
by i love zuko
Summary: It's 1850, and Jesse De Silva couldn't be happier. He's about to marry his beautiful cousin, Maria. Life would be perfect if it wasn't for all the new people moving to Carmel. But what happens when a certain newcomer catches Jesse's attention?
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mediator series!**_

Susannah's Point of View 

It was a stupid trip to the market. That's what started all…this. A stupid trip to the market on a stupid hot day in a town where I don't know anybody. Great.

I just _had_ to make fun of Bradley that morning. If I hadn't, he wouldn't have remembered it was _my_ turn to get our groceries that week.

And now I'm stuck in a line behind fifteen loud, impatient, hot, sweaty people. _I wonder if we could just go without bread this week…_

But then my stepfather would get angry with me, and I was trying to make him like me. Bradley and Jacob I didn't much care about, and it was easy to get on David's good side, but I didn't really want to ruin my mother's new life, no matter what the cost was to me.

Maybe I should back up. It's 1850, and the California Gold Rush is still calling people from across the United States to go and stake a claim. Which the locals find pretty annoying, if the comments I've heard are true.

That's actually what brought my family here. My mother fell in love back where we lived, all the across the United States in New York City. Pretty quickly, it seemed, they got married and my stepfather decided it would be a good idea to take advantage of the Gold Rush and go stake a claim.

My mother, of course, would follow him anywhere and my three stepbrothers and I got dragged along. Unfortunately, my stepfather didn't find much gold. Enough that we wouldn't starve, but it would take a lot of saving up to get us back to New York. So for now, my family has settled down here, in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California. In a town where our very existence seems to irritate people.

You see, before the Gold Rush, Carmel was a very small town in which everybody knew one another. There was no reason to go to any other towns, because all their friends and families were right there.

After the Gold Rush, every resident of Carmel was taken out of their comfort zone as tourists and newcomers flocked to the picturesque town. Either they were stopping on their way to find gold, or their predicament matched my family's. Either way, the residents here felt nothing but disdain for anyone they didn't know since they were born.

At least, that's the kind of idea I've gotten from all the whispers behind my back. Of course, there have been none to my face since Kelly Prescott made a very negative comment involving my stepfather and using many profanities (Her mother would have been shocked; they were very avid churchgoers).

After I broke her nose, everyone kind of left me alone, which I like better anyway. I've never been good at making friends, and my best friend back in New York is the only thing I have to look forward to right now.

I have no interest in getting to know any person from this tight little group of stuck up, judgmental people.

My mother says my tendency to solve problems with violence is unladylike. She doesn't realize that that is half the reason I do it.

I looked up to see that there were only two people between the bread counter and me. I saw, as the obvious tourist walked away, the baker's stoic expression change to a grin when the man in front of me stepped up to the counter.

"Hector! How's your sister? I heard the sickness was rough on her." The baker sounded like he already knew the answer, but wanted 'Hector' to say it.

"She's fine now, a little weak, but the doctor says she'll recover and be back to normal in no time." Hector replied.

"That's wonderful! So, what can I get for you today?"

I found that all the side conversations made the lines take twice as long as they usually would. It would probably take ten minutes for the customer ahead of me to walk away.

And _they_ were annoyed with _us?_

"Sorry the line took so long; the tourists were arguing about my raising the price of bread! If they don't like it, why don't they just leave?" the baker sounded apologetic.

"You're right; nobody is benefiting from them being here, not even them. Just because the idiot men of their families can't have stayed where they were doesn't mean we should have to suffer. Why can't they just go back to where they came from?" Hector, just take your bread at a lower price than all of us are getting it at and _go away_.

I couldn't take it anymore. "We can't go back to where we came from because we don't have the money! All the rumors out there told of everyone coming here and getting rich! We were barely surviving in New York; can you blame my stepfather for trying to make our lives better?"

Hector looked startled as he turned around. Apparently, he hadn't realized that anyone was behind him. The baker, of course, knew I was there the whole time, and quickly replied. "Your _step_father, huh? What happened, was your father so dishonorable that he left when you were born? I don't blame him for wanting to abandon a disrespectful little girl like you."

To my horror, I found that tears were forming in my eyes. I fought them back and said, "My father _died_ when I was six, for your information. And I'm only disrespectful to the condescending people of Carmel!" And with that, I turned on my heel and walked away with no bread. I would have to ask my mother if we could make some before my stepfather found out.

And I would have walked straight home, too, if I hadn't seen an old man around the corner beckon to me. Out of the baker's view, I approached the man.

He was glowing. Literally. He whispered, "I need you to tell my daughter to give my cat to the neighbor. I know she wants to take care of it for me, but she's terribly allergic. Just because I died doesn't mean she has to ignore that fact."

Oh, that's another thing I forgot to mention. I can see and speak to the dead.

I can usually help them move on from this world, onto whatever they do afterwards. My mother tried to get me into religion, but I'm not sure about it.

Because Carmel is so tiny, there really aren't really any murders (Unlike New York City). So most of the people are old or sick when they die. That's part of why I work at the hospital here as a nurse, so I don't have to help many ghosts outside of work.

The old man stood there, waiting for my answer. At least _he _didn't care that I wasn't born in this town. It's not like he had anyone else to talk to. "Of course I will. I'll tell her right now."

-&&-

Jesse's Point of View 

I only wanted to get a loaf of bread! And then those girl's words were trying to force themselves into my head and make me feel guilty.

Mr. Prescott was out of line, of course. He shouldn't have complained in front of one of the tourists, or commented about her father until she left. He obviously was going to tell his family about it later, so why couldn't he wait until then?

I had to forget about it. Newcomers get criticized every day. Why should today be any different, just because I was involved?

I had to get home with the rest of my groceries so Mother could make supper. We didn't want Sarah to get hungry right when she was ready to eat again. According to the doctor, we were lucky. For a six-year-old, she fought sickness very well. She was predicted to recover fully within a week.

I just hoped my sisters had stayed away from her like they were supposed to. This disease was apparently worse the older you got, so I hoped at least Josefina and Marta who were fifteen and sixteen, had kept their distance. Nine-year-old Sophia, I hoped, wouldn't catch anything, because she and Sarah were hard to separate. And my twelve-year-old sister, Mercedes, wanted to be a nurse, so she would also be hard to keep away.

Maybe the lecture my mother had given them would be enough to scare them away. Sarah could easily have died if she hadn't had a strange partial immunity to some of the symptoms according to the doctor…

And then there was Maria. She was my cousin, and my fiancée. I barely knew her, but she was coming to town soon. She was beautiful, and I couldn't wait to marry her. Maybe, when I got out of the house, I would have time to go to medical school before my father needed me to help with the farm. Maybe I actually could become a doctor, or at least learn about the topic that interested me.

I was snapped out of my reverie as an elderly man walked up to me. He had a stoop to his back, and, though while he was walking up to me, he was a ghost. He needed me to find his daughter and make her get rid of his cat, I remembered. I was supposed to do it before I went to the market.

"I'm going, I'm going!" I snapped irritably. I _hated_ being a mediator. Why couldn't people just move on by themselves? I'm sure, given time, his daughter would get rid of his cat on her own after her allergies became unbearable. A lot of people thought me odd by now, and if it weren't for the tourists, I would be the scapegoat for most things.

I quickly went home, left the groceries, claimed I had something else to take care of, and jogged to the daughter's house, following the directions the old man had given me that morning.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mediator series!**_

Okay guys, I know this probably should have been included in the first chapter, but I didn't think of it in time, and it doesn't really go with the next chapter. Therefore, it is short. But I hope it gives you more insight into the story.

Susannah's Point of View

Sometimes I feel like mediating is the only thing I'm useful for. Everyone at the hospital hates me, even though I keep ghosts from trashing rooms. 

I guess they have a good reason. Sometimes I'm a little late, and they walk in on me attacking nothing, or just standing there, in the middle of a room that looked like a tornado went through it.

Add that to the fact that I wasn't born here and you've got yourself judgment and hatred all around. 

But I hope nobody thinks I'm _bitter._

Of course, the one thing that keeps me going has to be ruined at some point or another. And it was, in the form of _him_ showing up right as I was discussing the cat with the woman that had answered the door.

"You have to get rid of the cat!" He said irritably, and it looked like he had run for a while. 

The woman just stared at him. I, however, had something to say. "We were actually discussing that. Thanks for all your help, but I think you've done your part. You can go now."

I could see the old man, looking at _both_ of us expectantly. Of course, my dead father had told me that there were more mediators in town, but he didn't have the resources to find out who (He was always saying vague things about being a ghost. It really bugged me).

But why did it have to be one of _them?_ Or, more specifically, _him?_

I waited for his response to my comment. "What would you know? You just yelled Mr. Prescott, and he won't sell you bread anymore!"

"Uh, I think I should go now," the woman in the doorway decided she'd had enough weirdness for one day. The door slammed in our faces.

"Now look what you've done!" and now Hector had to make it worse by blaming me.

"What _I_ did? I had everything going just fine! I think she was going to invite me in. And then you come up the street, impatient and rude, and she decides _not_ to listen to me. So now the old man is going to keep bugging _both_ of us until I can come up with a solution. What's your problem, anyway? I know you're stuck up toward people like me, but why are you so mean to the old man and his daughter?"

Surprisingly, there was no interruption to my rant and accusations. He'd seen me arguing with the baker, but I don't think he'd ever had a girl yell at _him _before. It took a second for him to collect himself.

"What's my_ problem_? I _hate_ mediating. Why can't I just get on with my life and not worry about anyone else's? Or their _after_life. I have enough going on right now without having to tear my hair out after every single person dies in this town!" He glared accusingly at me, probably because the population had been growing lately…and he blamed every single newcomer that came through this town. Idiot.

"Ah, I see. You're being selfish, and mediating is getting in the way of that."

"I'm not worried about myself. I'm concerned about – someone else. It's none of your business anyway."

"That's good, because I don't care about your stupid, self-absorbed troubles. I have problems of my own, and I don't need you making them any worse! I can take care of the mediating from now on, if it's such a _burden_ to you!"

He actually looked relieved. Then he remembered he was supposed to hate me, and his original expression came back after a moment. But instead of saying anything (he probably thought I would change my mind about taking over his responsibilities) he just turned around and walked away. 

I smiled to myself. _Nobody_ messes with my only outlet.

Jesse's Point of View

Amazing. I couldn't let it show, but I was intensely grateful for her taking that weight off my shoulders. I didn't mind if she messed it up. Every single one of them could go to hell for all I cared.

Now all I had to concern me was the health and welfare of my family. My father had been pressing me into setting the date for the wedding, and I had decided it should be done as soon as possible. Additions to the family meant more money for medical care.

That girl, calling me self-absorbed? Hah! I was sacrificing my freedom to keep my family safe. 

And the possibility of medical school was just an added bonus.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2-Names _Disclaimer: I do not own the Mediator series._ Jesse's Point of View

We never should have left the house.

Before Sarah got sick, she and I would go catch frogs by the lake. It was one of her favorite things to do, and it was only natural it would be the first thing she asked to do once the doctor announced that she could get out of bed and leave the house for short periods of time.

I thought it was great that she was so energetic after being sick for so long, and agreed immediately. My mother, however, was very reluctant. She told us to hurry so Sarah would get to bed on time, then eventually allowed us to go.

My little sister was skipping the whole way to the pond, singing a repetitive song she had learned from one of her friends. She was in such high spirits, I couldn't let myself be irritated. She should have some fun after being stuck in bed for weeks.

We were about halfway there when the hunched over old man-ghost came walking calmly up to us.

"I thought that girl was going to take care of you!" I shouted. I couldn't help it. I had been so happy when she had said she would take care of all the ghosts from now on. What had happened to that?

"_You_ are going to help me," was all the old man replied.

I knew there was no arguing with ghosts when they were this determined. The girl had probably sent him after me, saying she wouldn't do it. "What do you want me to do?" I asked, resigned.

All this time, Sarah had been standing patiently. She mouthed to me, "It's a ghost, right?"

About a year ago, Sarah had found me talking to myself for about the hundredth time. She was so confused that I felt guilty and told her my secret. She was very understanding (mostly because she was five at the time) and now put up with it when I had to completely ignore her for some lost spirit.

I nodded discreetly to her, then turned back to the ghost.

"My daughter doesn't approve of rudeness, as you might have noticed before. You must go back to her house and be polite. Then maybe she'll listen to you," the old man explained.

"Fine. Okay. I'll do it later. Right now, my sister and I have something important to do." And with that, I took Sarah's hand and pulled her away from the spirit. I didn't really care what he thought of me either way. Maybe he would disapprove so much that he would go back to the girl. I hoped so.

We were almost at the pond when we ran into Paul. He was pretty much my best friend. Our families had known each other for generations, and while he could be a little stubborn sometimes, we still got along pretty well. He decided to join us.

(&(&))) Susannah's Point of View

I ran all the way home and begged my mother to help me bake bread so my stepfather wouldn't find out about my run-in with the baker. She gave me her best "disappointed" look, but eventually agreed. Neither of us could cook very well, though, and our bread turned out terrible.

"Maybe we could tell them that the baker was sick today, and I couldn't get any bread there." I suggested, looking forlornly at our efforts.

"Or _maybe _you could go apologize, since you were too impulsive in the first place. Really, Susannah, nobody likes how they treat us, but we just have to grin and bear it. If everyone acted the way you did, the town would be in an uproar. Is Mr. Prescott the only baker in town?"

I nodded, and she sighed. "Well, it's too late to go out again today, but I expect you to apologize to him tomorrow. Understand?"

"Fine," I said, frustrated and wanting to hit something. Why does this have to happen to me? I knew Mr. Prescott definitely wouldn't accept my apology, no matter how much I was willing to pay for bread.

(--&--)

The next few days went by smoothly, apart from the bread shortage. My mother told my stepfather the truth, and he looked exasperated, but I could tell he had expected this to happen. I wasn't punished very severely, and now we were eating bread that either my mother or I had baked. It was pretty disgusting, but it was all we had, and now we had more money to save to get out of this town. I couldn't wait.

Surprisingly, the old man's ghost didn't come back to me to complain about his cat. Maybe his daughter had listened to me and gotten rid of it, or maybe she had just gotten tired of the allergies and decided it wasn't worth it. Either way, it worked out.

Work was the same, but the ghosts were acting a little bit calmer. Nothing had gotten me in trouble this week, and I was grateful. I really needed this job, both for the money and to be able to mediate away from home.

Bradley asked me if I wanted to go fishing with him on Sunday, my day off. I agreed, just for something to do. Jacob had extra chores to do and David was out getting groceries. Obviously, I wouldn't have to worry about doing that chore anymore.

I borrowed Jacob's fishing pole, and soon we were by the lake's edge, sitting, waiting. Bradley picked a spot far away from the river that flowed into the large pond. I never realized how boring fishing could be, and Bradley and I soon ran out of things to talk about. So we sat in silence, broken only by my occasional complaint. I could see he was wearing down, the monotony and my protests getting to him.

I was half asleep, the sound of the river lulling me into slumber, when I heard a high-pitched scream. Before I knew what I was doing, I dropped my fishing pole and ran to where the sound was coming from: the river.

When had stumbled through what seemed like miles of undergrowth, I saw who was screaming. There was a little girl, about five or six years old, struggling to stay afloat. It looked like she had fallen in, and the river was dragging her under and downstream. Every time her head would go under, it took her longer to break the surface again. She didn't look like a very strong swimmer, and she was getting weaker by the minute.

Without thinking, I jumped in after her, without even taking off my shoes. I heard a shout behind me, but by that time, I was already airborne.

It was only after I was sucked into the middle of the river that I realized what a stupid move this was.

I was using all my strength just to stay afloat, and I soon went under. I wrenched my eyes open, trying to see my surroundings, but there was nothing but churning water. It was amazing how calm the river looked from the surface, and how violent it actually was. My lungs were aching for breath, my vision was getting foggy, my muscles were in agony.

Just when I was about to give up hope and give in to the river, I saw a flash of blue. I grabbed at it, and realized it was the little girl's dress. In a surge of strength, I wrapped my arm around her and kicked for the surface…except I had no idea which way I was facing. I panicked, realizing I might be going toward the bottom, knowing that I would die if I did nothing.

One of my arms was above my head, and all of a sudden, my hand felt air and touched grass. In an instant, I felt another hand grasp mine and then pull the girl and I onto the bank. I was gasping for air, and the girl was unconscious. I coughed up water, and finally I could breathe again without much difficulty. Bradley, who had pulled us both out of the water, was asking if I was okay.

Then I realized the little girl I had saved wasn't breathing.

Hector was there with another boy about his age, and they were both panicking and shaking her, trying to get her to wake up. I suddenly remembered one of the doctors showing at the hospital showing me how to get a drowning person breathing again, and I immediately shoved both boys out of the way. I blew air into the girl's mouth and pushed on her chest until she coughed up the water in her lungs and started breathing again, though weakly.

She opened her eyes and I scooted back a step, not wanting the other two boys to trample me as they rushed to see if she was okay.

Bradley offered me a hand, and I took it. I shakily stood up, and Hector lifted up the girl. The other boy that was with him smiled at me. Hector, however, glared and turned away.

My stepbrother seemed to be offended by this, and he immediately shouted. "Hey, aren't you going to thank my sister for saving your friend's life?"

His _sister?_ Why would he say that? I was his _step_sister!

"I don't thank tourists. And I don't thank people who don't honor an agreement. Your sister agreed to do a job for me, and yet the person she was going to help doesn't seem to understand that fact. Almost as if she told him that _I _was going to help and she wasn't."

I knew immediately that he was talking about the old man, and I wondered briefly why the ghost hadn't come to me instead. All that came out of my mouth, though, was an indignant, "I did not!"

Hector looked like he was going to say something else, but his friend interrupted him. "We should probably get Sarah to a hospital; she doesn't look so good."

I silently agreed. She was pale and cold looking, and she had fallen back into unconsciousness. Hector looked down, and then looked extremely guilty for standing around. He immediately ran in the direction of town, and his friend followed him, hesitating only to smile at me again and whisper, "Thank you."

Then they were both gone. I robotically followed Bradley back home, feeling suddenly more tired then I had been in a while.

((()+)(+()))


End file.
